


A Bride of Blood

by impudent_strumpet



Category: Original Work
Genre: Battle Royale - Freeform, Blood, F/M, Falling In Love, Lots of it, Other, Romance, Secret Relationship, Sociopolitical Tension, Ulterior Motives, Villainy, Violence, battle to the death, butchery, savagery, secret romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 07:54:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8658742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impudent_strumpet/pseuds/impudent_strumpet
Summary: Years ago, Lady Liese Talavera, the betrothed of Prince Cedric Delvynmore, was killed in an uprising in Halivaara, the village she ruled. Her assassins were swiftly executed. She left the Prince with their daughter Almah, who has now grown into a beautiful girl with every young man in the village desiring her hand in marriage. The Prince decides to have every man who is willing fight to the death to prove his worth, and the last one surviving will be Almah's husband. A family in a village a little farther away, desperate for money, send their son, Jacob Stratton, to this, as their last hopes to get enough to survive. As the weeks go by, Jacob slowly finds himself falling in love with Almah. But eventually he finds himself against one of the last two...Vincent Pearce, who is prepared to kill Almah not only for her royal status and wealth, but to avenge his two brothers, who were killed in the uprising. Jacob must defeat this man and be the last one remaining...to save Almah's life, his family's, and of course, his own.





	1. Chapter 1

I still remember that day.  
  
The day just after the night that my parents told me I was to go to the village of Halivaara to pursue a wife.  
  
Not just any one. I was to engage in a fight to the death, with many other men, and strive against them to win the hand of Almah, the Prince of Halivaara's daughter, in marriage. This was the last attempt my parents had made to survive, to bring us out of the struggle and strain of the dire poverty we lived in. I was to comply with this without question or resistance, as here in my home village there was an especial pressure on sons to honor and uphold their families.  
  
So the next day I had left home for what I knew would be forever, early in the morning before anyone else was awake, as the wan sun, just a spot of brightness, rose over the valley far away. It was much earlier than I would usually awaken on a day like this. Now I would not see my sister carrying a jug of water back home, hear the laughter of my younger siblings playing in the field. I realized that after I left home, I would not only miss my family and friends, but even the simplest of things, like the sounds of the village by day, the crickets and fireflies by night, the peaches growing on trees in the summer and the golden sap dripping from them in autumn. I was starting to miss even the everyday chores and tasks I did for my family, not only because I was there to help, but for all the normalcy and mundanity of them.  
  
This village was my home, and it was so quiet and peaceful, even though it was poverty-stricken. Now I was departing from it for Halivaara, more an empire than a village, as it was the most conflicted, violent, and warlike area around. I knew some history of it, that years ago, Lady Liese Talavera, former betrothed of the current prince, was killed in an uprising. Her assassins were swiftly executed, and there were rumors that some of their relatives were still alive and thirsty for revenge. It was her daughter that I was to engage in a battle to the death for, in the hopes of marrying. All because every man in Haalivara was after Almah, and the Prince may still be holding onto old resentment.  
  
This just didn't seem fair. It was a cruel arrangement, unfair to all of us. I could die in the battle, and the chance of that was not low. Even if I lived, I would be marrying Almah, which could mean anything. I would not be surprised to find her spoiled, vain, and shrewish, and myself caught in a miserable marriage. Still, this was the last chance my family had. My victory would ensure their lives. Even if I fell, we would have tried.  
  
I made it to Halivaara by nightfall. It was mostly quiet since it was nighttime, but it was still much vaster and more bustling than my home village. I probably appeared really out of place. Since I didn't know the way to the palace, I asked for directions from some people who seemed safe. There were those who asked what brought me here, where I was going, and when I told them, they wished me luck. The battle for Almah seemed to be a hot topic around here. I almost felt like some kind of celebrity.   
  
But I tried to stay away from them. I didn't know what Halivaara types were like, and the crowdedness of this foreign village was really making me anxious. Because of that, I could hardly wait to finally get to the palace...but then, that made me nervous too. The Prince who had ordered this, his daughter who held my life in her hands, and all of those men who, though impersonally, wanted me dead...  
  
Eventually, I finally arrived, though it felt like I had crossed the entire land to reach it.  
  
And everyone else was already there.  
  
How was I the last one to arrive?! Where had they all come from, that they were already here?! Were they all from Halivaara? Damn it...  
  
I tried to make my presence inconspicuous, but...I could feel all of their eyes on me. Including those of the Prince and Almah.  
  
I knelt on one of the stairs beside the row of the other men, below the two thrones that the Prince and Almah sat in, and removed my cap.  
  
"My apologies, Your Highness." I bowed my head.  
  
"You are Jacob Stratton from Amenhurst, are you not?" the Prince spoke, his voice clear and resonant.  
  
"Y-Yes, sire," I stammered. "P-Please pardon my lateness, I-I beseech you."  
  
"It's alright. You have come a long way," came Almah's voice.  
  
I looked up. She was smiling at me.  
  
The Prince gave her a sideways glance, then faced us and proceeded to explain exactly what was to happen. The last day of each week, at sunrise, we were to fight to the death in the vast fields behind the Cathedral of St. Epponina. (From what I remembered, this was a saint who had risked her life to protect her husband. It was rumored that Almah would marry the final victor in this cathedral.) The Prince would choose the two who would face each other in battle that day, and they would be given unlimited time for it. We were allowed to use whatever weapons we desired. Whoever won would battle the next man chosen by the Prince a week from then, and it would proceed that way.  
  
I really, really hoped I wouldn't be the first one chosen.  
  
After we were dismissed, I set out to the home of my cousin Aaron, who I was staying with during this time.  
  
"So...your parents sent you to this," Aaron remarked as he let me in.  
  
"They did," I replied. "But, you know, filial honor is the law of the land over there...and they need this."  
  
"You're still just a kid." Aaron sighed. "I can't be sure that you'll win, but...I hope it all works out."  
  
I was a little surprised. I hadn't seen Aaron for a while, and he was only twenty years old, but...adulthood and living on his own in Halivaara seemed to have taken a toll on him.   
  
That night I watched the gray clouds in the dark sky idly pass over the ivory crescent moon, and really tried not to be too nervous about the upcoming battle.  
  
I remembered Almah. She had been cute. She had long, dark hair, eyes like two cocoa beans, a little rosy smile...  
  
I didn't dwell on her too long. I couldn't be sure I would ever enjoy her. The chances of me ever even being close to her were pretty slim. This was as true as it was disappointing. But still, I would try my very best. My obligations were to come before my desires. That was how it had always been.


	2. Chapter 2

I had woken up the next morning almost thinking I was back at home. Back in my cramped wooden bedroom, that I shared with all of my siblings, the sun up and chores to do. But then I knew I wasn't. I was at my cousin's house in Halivaara, and I knew exactly what I was here only for.  
  
I wondered if every day would be like this...the dread, the terror, the distress, as if my death sentence had already been written.  
  
"This isn't the first time this has happened, you know," Aaron told me later.  
  
"...Really?" I asked quietly.  
  
He nodded. "This is the sixth battle royal in Halivaara history. Each one was for different reasons, and with different spoils for the victor. This is the first time the promised spoils is a wife." He sighed. "Halivaara has always been a...conflicted place. Each ruler has been raised to be commanding, dominating, and feared by the people. So sometimes things like this have happened."  
  
"Wow..." I breathed. But I knew Halivaara wouldn't be calm and mostly peaceful like any other village. It was so vast, barely small enough to be called a village. It must have been five times the size of Amenhurst, with many more people and infinitely more social and political turmoil, that probably had steadily worsened and complicated over time.  
  
"Jacob...did you bring any weapons with you, to use in battle?" Aaron asked.  
  
"I was taught a little of how to use a sword, but...I'm not very good at it," I admitted.  
  
"I could help you out a little," he offered.  
  
My eyes widened. "Really?"  
  
"I mean, I could teach you as much as I could before...the end of the week," he said.  
  
I swallowed after hearing the last part of his statement, but then nodded. "That'd be great. Thanks."  
  
"You're welcome," he replied.  
  
~  
  
Sword fighting is much harder than it looks.  
  
You have to be swift, vigilant, active, and aggressive. Your moves have to carefully timed and planned, never wild or spontaneous, striking beforehand to displace your opponent midway. You have to be very, very careful...for the sake of your life.  
  
It was complicated, and it really took so much more of the mind than the body. It took so much thought. But it was physically trying, too, all that constant moving, striking, and the increasing heaviness of the sword as time went by. Just an hour later, I was sweating, parched, dazed, and felt like my arms were going to fall off and my legs were going to crumble. And despite that it was tiring, I had to stay focused and strong. If I was not vigilant at every moment of the battle I would eventually be in, just one idle moment, and I would be killed.  
  
And Aaron was a tough partner. He held nothing back and gave me all he had. It seemed he was striving to model as closely as possible an actual opponent in a battle royal, to give me the best practice and experience there was. I knew he wasn't actually going to kill me, but he had all the fierceness and ruthlessness as if he really were. It was this that drove me to fight with all I had and not give in.  
  
If practice with Aaron was this tasking, I couldn't imagine what the battle itself would be like. But I pushed on. I had to do this. I had to gather as much skill and battle prowess as I could. I had to live...for as long as I could.  
  
"You're really not bad at this," Aaron told me when practice was finally over.  
  
"How is that?" I asked between heavy breaths.  
  
"You're determined," Aaron explained. "Besides strength, determination is practically the key to victory in life-and-death combat. Whoever has more of it wins. Even if you're fighting as hard as you can to stay alive, if there's just one tiny bit of despair in you...that can mean the end of you."  
  
Then he walked up to me and put his arm around my shoulder. "You really are your parents' son, you know. By trying the hardest you can, you're giving back to them. Even your persistence in fighting traces back to your sense of filial piety. It's a part of you."  
  
I took that in...they were really profound words from my cousin, and they were true ones too. I was my parents' son, my siblings' brother, and they were what I was fighting for. For them, and them only, I was doing this.


	3. Chapter 3

I was up the next morning when the sun had just barely risen, just a few bright rays peeking over the trees. Yet these faint shafts of the sun seemed powerless to offer any warmth or to light the way for anyone. It was just as cold as it had been at night.  
  
"I really can't believe this," I said to Aaron as I grabbed my sword before I left.  
  
"Best of luck," he said with a sigh. "Gods protect you." His voice seemed to tremble a bit at the end.  
  
~  
  
The dry grass of the field crunched under my feet as I made my way over to the others behind the cathedral. Some were dressed well, others in rags. Some were in their teens like me, others in their twenties. I imagined most of them were wealthy suitors of Almah, entering battle out of their devotion to her, while others, like me, were doing this in a last attempt to save their families from being crushed to death under the fist of poverty. They had to do this, even if it cost them their lives. The men all had weapons like me, with swords, battle axes, spears, and scythes. Fierceness and bloodlust glowed in their eyes. My stomach knotted at the sight.  
  
The Prince welcomed us to the first day of the battle. It was then that it dawned on me completely that...this is real. This is really happening. I am actually engaging in a battle to the death. My heart pounded, and I tried not to appear to be shaking.  
  
"Now, the two who will battle today will be chosen," the Prince said.  
  
Silence ensued for a moment. In just that one moment, I filled with more dread and terror that I had ever felt in my life. My insides constricted as if strangling me, my blood ran cold, and I was sure I was visibly shaking.  
  
"Nicholas Collins versus Daniel Tremaine."  
  
I breathed. I was going to live for another day. Everything in me seemed to calm. I felt a little guilty, being relieved for my own life at the expense of someone else's, though. Today, someone was going to die. Right before my eyes. And they would leave a family to mourn and to keep on suffering in the depths of poverty.  
  
The two stepped forward and unsheathed their swords.  
  
At first it wasn't much. Just two men fighting with swords. A slice on the skin here, a near-stab there. All that could be heard was the clash of the swords and their feet scraping the grass and dirt beneath them.  
  
But for it to be just that was too good to be true. It wouldn't be just that.  
  
It became steadily more intense as the battle continued. The clashing of the swords grew more clamorous, and the rip of the blade into skin could be heard multiple times, followed by sprays of crimson droplets. Blood was flying out right before my eyes. No one had been stabbed yet, but they were trying. I could tell they were. They were fighting with vigor and passion, parts of their clothing and the skin beneath ripped open, dripping with sweat and trails of blood, and rage burning in their eyes. They went on like this, the flames in their eyes never dying down for a moment, just burning more brightly as time passed.  
  
They were so bloodied. So exhausted. Yet still so fierce.  
  
This was unreal, that they could keep pushing on despite how tired and wounded they were. This place truly felt removed from reality. It was devoid of a speck of kindness or mercy. No such thing could reach this place. It was inhuman. It must have been preternatural in some way.  
  
But deep inside, I knew it wasn't. I knew it was reality.  
  
The battle just kept going and going. And so did the two. Their ferocity grew, sweat beading on their skin and blood flowing from the wounds they had given each other. The battle was moving with lightning quickness, a blur of sweat, blood, dirt, and fiery eyes. They were wearing themselves and each other out, but I knew neither was going to stop until someone was dead.  
  
That very thought horrified me.  
  
Their swords moved in sweeping motions, twin blurs of silver and sunlight, speckled with red, as each tried to slash or stab the other.  
  
Then one of them stumbled back and --  
  
 _SHIK._  
  
Silence swept through the field. There was one flat on the ground on his back, with his opponent's sword sunken into his heart. His opponent swiftly yanked it out with a burst of crimson, the sword soaked in blood. The man convulsed on the ground for a moment, his eyes wide and blood dripping out of his mouth, until he went still.  
  
There was a pause, then the Prince announced, "The winner of the first battle...is Nicholas Collins."  
  
I was too horrified to move. To breathe.  
  
That was the first time I had ever seen someone be killed. The first time I had ever seen so much blood with my own eyes. The first time I had ever seen someone purposefully end the life of another.  
  
And this battle to the death had only just begun.


End file.
